Voices from Academe-Labor of Love

Recently, there's been a slew of articles about the dire prospects for graduate students, especially in the humanities, on the job market. The New York Times last weekend ran an article about the job prospects (or lack thereof) in the humanities. In the Chronicle of Higher Education, a columnist that goes by the pen-name Thomas H. Benton has been warning prospective grad students of the danger of attending graduate school in English. "Just don't go," he says, unless you're independently wealthy, are supported by a spouse, or are independently wealthy.

Today, the most recent Chronicle has a part two to his original essay about avoiding graduate school. Apparently, he received quite a bit of mail that accused him of undermining the importance of the academy, the importance of intellectual life. And, in response, he brought up what I think is a truly important point-- that the rhetoric of doing this (i.e., academia) because we love it is at best naive, and worst, dangerous.

And he's right. For what other profession do people use the rhetoric of "love" to excuse the fact that there are no jobs out there. He makes an important point, that the discipline has lost its ability to take care of its own.

I see this happening in my own department. Surely enough, this spring will bring a wealth of new graduate students to visit campus. Next fall 20-30 new bodies will fill the seats in orientation. And, I can almost guarantee that no one will mention the fact that, in all likelihood, most of them will never become tenure-track professors. They may be told that we have "very good job placement" (I was). They may be told that we're an extremely strong program with a strong faculty (we are). But no one--I'd be willing to bet money on this--will tell them that they should be open to other options besides being a professor. (Other than adjuncting indefinitely, that is.) That would be tantamount to blasphemy in the hallowed halls of the ivory tower.

Trust me- I know this from experience. When I told my otherwise helpful and supportive dissertation director that I would go do something else if I didn't get a tenure track job, she gave me a look that indicated that I might, possibly, have lost it.

The problem, really, is that this isn't about my own piddly job market performance. It's really about a system that perpetuates cycles of exploitation--and not even on purpose. Our professors really do care about how we do--that much I know. But even they don't know how to help us do anything else but become research-oriented professors. And so, this rhetoric of the love of the profession becomes our reason for being, our entire identity.

I was struck by one specific thing in Benton's latest article-- that some of the letters he received from graduate students talked about depression, some about thinking of suicide. And that floored me.

But it also made me realize how very lucky I am to see this as both a vocation and a job. If I thought of studying literature as only a vocation--something so intrinsic to my identity that I could not do without it--my utter job market failure might well have been devastating.

It wasn't, surprisingly enough. I had a fine time in California at Disneyland while I should have been interviewing with people. And I think that is partially because I see this as a job.

I've never been one to think that work comes before family, friends, or other obligations. Especially not family. And I have an amazing family--both extended and nuclear. Every time my little guy comes up with some new idea or game, every time I tuck his small, freshly-washed body into bed at night, my career problems recede. Every time my husband holds my hand as we watch him play, or we laugh ourselves silly about something stupid, those problems recede.

I'm sure it's a bit Pollyanna-ish of me, and I by no means think that kids or partners are the answer to everyone's life problems. But for me they work, I guess. It makes me glad that I didn't make grad school or research my life, because they certainly haven't done a lot for me. It makes me glad that I didn't put anything on hold for the big dream of tenure, because that may never happen for me.

And having them makes that little problem, somehow, ok.

More of Life in Limbo

Yesterday, I got an email telling me that an article I submitted a few months back has been accepted for publication. No revise and resubmit, just straight up taken.

I should feel good about it. It's not one of my dissertation chapters, but an old seminar paper that I reworked. It shows that I have more expertise in ethnic American lit. But it's hard to be excited about it. I can't help but think that it won't really matter in the long run. There's not much difference between 2 and 3 publications on a CV (or even much difference between 2 and 4 if I ever get around to revising and resubmitting another article that a journal has shown interest in.)

I'm trying very hard to distance myself from all of this, so that I'm prepared to move on in a year if I have to. But then a random article hits in a decent journal and suddenly I feel vindicated--that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.

But I'm not doing it--so something's wrong. The market. My project. Something.

I was one of 15 finalists for a generalist position at a small Catholic college in Wisconsin. They asked me to fill out a pre-phone interview questionnaire.

I never got a phone interview.

How much does that suck? Because you know, straight up, that it's something I wrote in those answers to the ten stupid little questions about "gifts" and "values." I'm hoping it was because I'm not Catholic enough, because I'm not sure that I could have answered the pedagogy questions much better than I did.

I keep hearing this saying about how it's all about "fit." That's all fine and good, but what if there are just not enough shoes in the store?

So I have another line to add to my CV. I should feel excited.

But I don't.

The One Where I Think Maybe the Suck A$$ Job Market is Just a Blessing in Disguise

Today Rate Your Students posted this little gem of a survey:

The study asked approximately 400 undergraduates aged 18 to 25 whether they agreed with these statements:

• If I have explained to my professor that I am trying hard, I think he/she should give me some consideration with respect to my course grade - 66.2 per cent agree


• If I have completed most of the reading for a class, I deserve a B in that course - 40.7 per cent


• If I have attended most of the classes for a course, I deserve at least a grade of B - 34.1 per cent


• Teachers often give me lower grades than I deserve on paper assignments - 31.5 per cent


• Professors who won’t let me take my exams at another time because of my personal plans (e.g. a vacation) are too strict - 29.9 per cent


• A professor should be willing to lend me his/her course notes if I ask for them - 24.8 per cent


• I would think poorly of a professor who didn’t respond the same day to an e-mail I sent - 23.5 per cent


• Professors have no right to be annoyed with me if I tend to come late to class or tend to leave early - 16.8 per cent


• A professor should not be annoyed with me if I receive an important call during class - 16.5 per cent


• A professor should be willing to meet with me at a time that works best for me, even if inconvenient for the professor - 11.2 per cent.

The Pursuit of Happy-ness

In a recent post on RateYourStudents.com, a person responded to a question about whether to tell prospective grad students the truth about their job prospects by saying:

"Anyone who advises someone into graduate school should be sent to advise young men and women to volunteer for active military service in Afghanistan, because their chances of happiness are better there."

I'm feeling that right about now. But at the same time, I can't help but think that if I had known my job prospects would be so dismal, I still would have done the degree. I can honestly say, I didn't know. When Mountain State recruited me for my MA, they showed me an impressive list of their job candidates from the last 8 years--97% were in tenure track jobs within less than three years. You'll get a job coming out of this school, I was assured. By the time that I came to Prairie state to do my PhD, I knew that the market was rough, but I also "knew" that people who were well prepared, with publications and teaching experience, could still do just fine.

Maybe they can, in theory. I'm not so big on theories lately.

The bottom line is that I don't think anyone who wants to go to grad school should be dissuaded from going after an advanced degree. I have come to believe, at least for the humanities, that there needs to be a bit more honesty about what it is you're going to do with that degree.

In my field, people don't get non-academic jobs. Or at least, that's the myth. Instead, people stick around in adjunct hell, basically with about as much standing in the department (and funding) as a public school substitute teacher. But that's the dream, right? Just keep teaching part time to pay the bills and someday that little liberal arts college in the sky will learn of your existence and come to find you.

Once you're out, you're out. Right? And getting out means giving up on being an intellectual. Right?

I can see why people adjunct, really, I can. They get to keep doing what is comfortable for them--teaching, hanging out in academic buildings, reading obtuse theory. And if you're happy making a living doing that, then I think it's great.

But I also think that part of the misery of the job market could be ameliorated if grad students got more guidance with non-academic jobs. You know, the kind that only give you 2 weeks vacation a year and make you wear *gasp* suits to work. Five or more years of living the grad student life--even though you really do work around the clock--can make anyone nervous to leave it behind. The scheduling freedom is a wonder in and of itself.

I can't help but think, though, that hundreds, probably thousands, of smart, capable PhDs are adjuncting because they don't know what else to do. That to leave the halls of academia is to become a failure. There are moments, for me, when it surely feels like that. And then I think about how exciting it might be to get up every morning and go into an office, to have a job with retirement benefits and health insurance that includes a prescription plan and allows me to see a doctor that specializes in something other than mono and STDs. In a real doctor's office.

Because it's true that it would be miserable to be on the market for four years, as the writer above is/was. But it must also be true that it's possible to take your time in grad school as your first career, the one that most people aren't lucky enough to have, and to go out and find something else that makes you just as happy. Right?

Why was it that I didn't go to law school?

I have the great pleasure of looking for a job in the middle of the worst economic meltdown in a very, very long time.

Oh- and did I mention that I'm in the humanities. You know, the "useless crap" courses that the "make" you take in college. So there's a big demand for me. Right.

At first I was fairly freaked out. ok, totally freaked out. I'm sending out 20 applications so far--not a huge number considering the 100s of us freshly minted PhDs that will be out there this year. That definitely makes me nervous, because even coming from a top-20 program, the odds are decidedly not in my favor.

I'm slowly, but surely letting go of that, though. I should know by Christmas if I have interviews. If I have interviews, I have a real shot. I'll know by March or so if I have campus visits. If I have campus visits, my odds just skyrocketed. And if I don't, or if I don't have very many, I have a good 2 months before the University stops paying me to find something else to do.

I'm lucky in one respect--I could stay on as a student next year. This might actually be a smart move if I took that extra year to add a chapter or two to my dissertation that makes me eligible to apply for contemporary or 19th c. jobs. The problems? 1) I don't want to pay for daycare if that's the case-we could use that extra $5000+ a year in other ways. 2) I'd still be a student--albeit with health insurance. 3) Doesn't really allow for a baby-- you really can't be showing when you're interviewing. 4) There's no guarantee that another year will make any difference and I'll just have more student loan debt to show for it.

But I have other options- I could adjunct. My department will supposedly "support" me for 2 or 3 years after I graduate. I don't think that includes health insurance, though. I also really, really want that to be my worst case scenario. Really. It puts me at a disadvantage in terms of scheduling, class assignments, and seniority. Blech.

But I could also go find something else to do. Right now, staring at 150 pages that badly need revising and another 50 or so to write, something else is sounding mighty good to me. Mighty good. Also a bit terrifying. But lots of people retrain and get different jobs, right??

Damn, if I only had some fabulously rich long-lost relative who could bequeath me their fortune, I could fall back on my master plan of moving somewhere near water and opening a B&B not decorated in the usual Victorian frillery. Not happening.

So I'm applying and waiting and wondering what comes next. But it's getting better. Really.

Job Market Blues

I bought a big old box of envelopes. I figured it would be more economically frugal, since it cost just over twice what two small packets cost.

I bought the big box because I had expected to wake up on the morning of the 12th and sign into the magic database and see before my eyes a long list of places that I might someday work. I expected to need to send out 40, 50, 80 applications if necessary.

But on that morning, I was greeted with only about 15 places to apply for next year. Two of those are far out my league, and 3 or 4 of them having teaching loads that look downright dreadful. That leaves, so far, maybe 10 places where I have a shot.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

Every week the list is updated. Every week there might be more jobs.

Guess how many there were today?

2-- and those are both a stretch.

This could be a very, very bad thing indeed. I'm out of funding this year. I graduate this coming spring. And I really, really don't want to be an adjunct somewhere.

Breathing Again

Yesterday, I went to a talk about finding jobs outside of Academe. Let me just say, what a lovely relief. Even though no one really talks about these things, it is, apparently, possible to make a good living and a happy life in a post-academic world.

But at the same time that this talk was extraordinarily liberating, it also made me realize just how frustrated I've become with the whole PhD system. Here's the deal--I really do want to be a professor. Not just because you get the summers off (you really don't), no just because I'll never have to wear a suit (I probably would anyway), and not because I don't know what else to do. I really do want to be a professor, because I've come to love my research and enjoy my teaching in ways that I couldn't have foreseen 6 years ago. I know the reality though.

The reality is that there are just not enough jobs out there. Only something like 40% of English PhDs get a tenure track teaching position at a university or college. That is less than a 50/50 chance of finding that happy little professorial post somewhere. The rest of the PhDs left will either leave academe or stick around in part-time adjunct positions, teaching ridiculous course loads for a tiny bit of what they should be worth. And they will adjunct for years and years, even though your chances of ever getting a tenure track position drop off significantly after 3 years, and even though they could be making far more money for less work doing something else.

So why do we do it?

My theory--and don't blame anyone but me for this one--is that we're trained to do it. After 5-10 years of being paid roughly $4000 more a year than if we'd been working minimum wage, grad students become accustom to a certain level of poverty. And, after 5-10 years of being the hip young TA that everyone seems to like, never wearing a suit or tie to class, and cultivating a fairly informal persona, grad students are in no mood to go join what they perceive as the mindless minions of a cubicled corporate culture. Put all of that together with a general understanding that to leave academia is to fail and a culture that is more than willing to pay you to continue your grad-like existence, and there's no wonder that so many of us get stuck in adjunct positions.

Now, I don't mean to insinuate that adjuncts aren't worthy or important teachers. For many people, a part-time university teaching position is exactly what they want and need. But for so many more--many of whom are the best teachers a University might have--the adjunct position and adjunct life isn't one to aspire to. No benefits. No job stability. And after 5-10 years in the graduate program, they now rank below graduate students in terms of importance to the department.

I've decided that whatever happens this fall, I refuse--adamantly refuse-- to adjunct.

It is a decision that has caused me no small amount of anxiety. After all, I've been a part of the University life in one way or another since 1997. Leaving this lifestyle is tantamount to a career change. It's a scary proposition.

But the talk yesterday helped me readjust my perspective on the whole situation. The truth is that I could see myself as a professor, but I can also see myself doing something else. Editing or publishing, or writing.

And the truth is that departments should be doing a lot more to stop herding qualified, intelligent students into adjunct land. At the very least, there needs to be a change in the way that professors and students think about post-academic life, because the truth of the matter is that over 30% of PhDs (at least in my discipline) just aren't going to be professors. It's frustrating, but burying our heads in the sand and refusing to think that we are certainly not one of those isn't helping anyone by the people in charge of getting departments to turn profits.

The Two Body Problem...Plus One

I guess that makes it the three body problem.

But really, folks. Only in Academe could it be considered a "problem" to be settled and committed to an equally intelligent and driven partner. I vote for new nomenclature- how about the "two-body bonus"? Two bright individuals who will contribute and provide stability to a worthy institution.

Ok, so the Ivory Tower is a bit behind the times. They're trying to catch up, I suppose. In the 1970s, there where nepotism clauses that prevented institutions from hiring spouses. At least now we have a shot. (whoop. eee.)

But seriously, the two body problem is an issue. It's a bigger issue, though, if you have a three body problem. Or a four or five body problem. Maybe not if you're a male; somehow, having a family and kids makes you more attractive and seem more stable. If your a woman, you find yourself carefully expunging your professional website of any trace of baby--just in case that keeps your foot out of the door. Hubby, however, puts Little Man front and center: "My favorite budding economist," the caption reads beneath the picture of my two favorite guys somewhere in the middle of Central Park.

It's the three body problem that is even more difficult, because you don't have the option of living in different states for a little while (i.e., until you grow so far apart you file for divorce), because even long commutes between places aren't feasibly with a child in daycare somewhere.

This is something the second wave didn't deal with and something that today's young women are blissfully oblivious of....for now. There's a reason Hillary's campaign doesn't resonate with young women voters--they/we don't understand how monumental it is. As a woman, every avenue is open to you. The sky's the limit. There aren't "boy" jobs and "girl" jobs, there are smart people jobs and not-so-smart people jobs.

Until you have a baby, and then suddenly working like a man doesn't work anymore. And suddenly a "bump"* can hurt you in an interview. And suddenly you're on the "mommy track," even if you're not. You. Are. A. Liability. Your employer doesn't even have to offer you maternity leave if you haven't worked for them for more than 12 months.

Why is it a problem to be stable? To be committed? To be passionate about being more than one little box for people to fit you into?

I love watching the little undergrad chick-a-dees walking around without a care in the world. All doors are open to them. Nothing stands in their way. I was them once, never suspecting that the glass ceiling is a lot lower when you're wearing a baby bjorn.


*Really, people, who came up with this??

Between Work and Family

"[M]otherhood was invented by someone who had to have a word for it because the ones that had the children didn’t care whether there was a word for it or not."
- William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying



In a recent Chronicle essay, the author writes that what academics really need is to have a passion outside of academia and their research--throwing pottery, writing novels, photography. In the same essay, though, he writes,

"Accept that you will not be there for everything for everyone. Certainly, a reasonable administrator will accommodate an assistant professor who, for example, cannot schedule classes on Tuesday afternoons because that's when he helps his elderly mother shop. But on the other side -- and trust me on this -- your kids will not grow up to hate you if you don't attend every soccer game and ballet recital."

My first impulse upon reading this was utter disgust. Of course he can say these things. I'm sure that his children didn't hate him for missing an occasional soccer game or ballet recital, but that's not the point. Not really.

It's not about whether your children hate you or whether they're irreparably damaged by your devotion to work. It's really about what you miss. This, for me at least, is one of the things I constantly wrestle with- how much is enough? Of work? Of family? How much do I miss when I drop Little Man off at daycare during spring break? On days when I'm not uber-productive, and just really need a break myself? How much am I willing to give up?

Because here's the thing- in the grand scheme of things, what I do professionally is not really important. No one will die if I only publish 2 articles instead of 3 one year. The world will not really be any worse off if my monograph on the way the culture of books effected the formation of a modernist canon doesn't get published next year--or ever. I am not a doctor curing diseases and healing ills; I am not a scientist working for the greater good; I am not even a lawyer protecting my clients from whatever they need protecting. No. I study literature. I love what I do--I love the rare books room and the archive; I love that I get to read for a living; I even love writing. But what I do professionally does not really change the world.

I was talking to J yesterday over lunch about this essay in the Chronicle and how frustrating it is. But it is also extraordinarily freeing. As I get closer to finishing, and as I prepare myself to be "on the market" (like a slab of beef), it's becoming more and more clear what I am willing to do.

I am willing to put everything I can into my work and produce the best work I can produce, but I am not willing to give up those 3 or 4 hours in the evening that are work-free, that are just to be with my husband and child.

I am willing to put everything I can into the job market, to make a real effort to get a tenure-track position, but I am not willing to make a second try.

I am not willing to work as an adjunct or a community college. It's not that I think those positions are beneath me, but I know that they are not me at all. At heart, I'm a researcher, a writer, an editor even, but at heart, I am not-at the very core of my being-a teacher. I like teaching. I admire my students and want the best for them. But, without the possibility to research and then incorporate that research into my teaching, without the possibility to have an upper-division course or to even supervise graduate students, teaching would eventually eat away at my soul. I'd rather work retail--seriously. PhD or not, I would take retail over adjuncting.

I am also not willing to work 60, 70, or 80 hour weeks. I refuse to give up my family life for an extra article or two that ten years from now--nay, three years from now--no one will read, no one will remember. I am willing to work hard, to be an active member of my discipline, but I am not willing to miss soccer games or ballet recitals. I have forever to get tenure; I get less than 18 years of my son's childhood. I will not give up witnessing that. Besides, no university will pay me enough to work regularly 80 hour weeks. When they start paying English profs 6 figures, I'll gladly put in my time. There's a reason I didn't go to law school.

I am willing to be open about my future. I can just as easily see myself working in publishing as I can being an assistant professor. Not getting a job next year will destroy me only a little. Then I'll pick myself up and go for plan B--maybe another baby, maybe freelance writing, maybe getting into publishing. I'm willing to accept that I don't have what it takes to be a professor at least somewhat gracefully.

Because the bottom line is that I do have other interests outside of my research. I am interested in building a life with my husband for many years to come. I am interested in raising a child who will make the world a better place through his very being in it. Those are the places where I can have an impact. My family is my primary passion. And I have hobbies besides.

The thing is, I can imagine a world where I am not an academic- where I'm not even using one of my many degrees. I cannot, however, imagine living in a world where I am not J's wife or Little Man's mother. Nor should I have to.

Job Market Blues

And it's not even summer yet...

To some extent, I think about this issue way too much. There is, after all, only so much one can do to get a job. So much of it has to do with luck, timing, and that all important concept, fit.

Knowing that, however, does not stop me from worrying about the year ahead and the years after.
I'm fairly lucky, in a way, because the department in the lovely Mountain University where I got my MA gave me a head start that I don't think grad students here at Prairie U are getting.

When I went to the pre-pre job search info session last year (you're not allowed to go to the real pre- job search meeting until you're actually committing to going on the market) I found out that in my program roughly 40% of first time job candidates get tenure track positions--and that includes a portion of the department that is known for placing almost everyone, every time. The institution where I got my MA routinely places something like 80% or more of first time candidates, most in tenure track gigs. And, it boasts a record of placing 97% of people who wanted tenure track positions within 3 years.* From the look of the number of PhDs who show up year after year as non-tenured lecturers, I'm guessing that Prairie U doesn't quite boast those numbers.

This seems odd to me--especially since Prairie U is ranked quite a bit better than Mountain U. Especially, since Praire U boasts programs and faculty that are nationally known and recognized. You'd think that their placement rate would be higher-- say 50-50 at least.

So I have good reason to think, and worry, and plan for the job search. Because if I wait until the pre-search meeting that will happen sometime in May, I will be years behind people in programs that have been preparing to be professionals since the beginning of graduate school.

Luckily, thankfully, I knew this coming in.

When I entered my MA program I didn't have a clue. I imagined grad school to be an extension of undergrad (which I breezed through with minimal effort). I really didn't know what I wanted, or what it meant to get a PhD, to be a professor. By the end of my first semester, I was just trying to make it through to get the MA and then maybe go back and teach High School. Anything but more theory and three hour seminars. I felt stupid and out of place amidst people who already had read Derrida and Foucault. I had tantrums over theory books and wanted to cry when I read something in English that I could not, for the life of me, comprehend.

And then something happened. At the end of my second semester, a professor wrote on one of my seminar papers that I should think about revising it for publication--and that she would be happy to help me.

So I did. I worked on draft after draft. I came across Irigaray and finally found theory that made sense to me in a real way. And for the first time, I understood my work as real work. Not as busy work or something to just get through. Real work, that I was really interested in, and really wanted to do.

That experience happened at least 3 times at Mountain U-- three different professors in less than two years, in classes that were not my "real" area, expressing willingness to help me become a colleague rather than a student. It was an atmosphere that permeated the department. I was told by an chaired professor that I was not to call her Prof. X, but simply by her nickname. "You are becoming a colleague," she said. "Not simply a student, and should address me as such."

It's because of Mountain U that I have 1 article published and 1 forthcoming. It's because of those two short years in my MA program that I worry about getting through, finishing, and what my CV should have on it to be a viable candidate on a difficult market.

It's not that I haven't gotten help and support from Prairie U-- my committee has been wonderful to me, and the department has treated me fairly well. But, in a way, I think it's somehow sad that the department here is ok with their 40% placement when it is, indeed, possible to do so much better-- for themselves, and for their students.


*And this isn't an exaggeration-- when they recruited me for the MA, they sat me down and went over a list of the last 3 years' candidates and showed me where they placed. Most tenure track--and not even tenure track in Community Colleges or middle of nowhere branch campuses. Real places, that I've heard of before.